


ain't as bad as all that

by readythefanons



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M, M/M, Oral Sex, Pegging, Spitroasting, balthus gets invited for the fun, established leonie/lorenz, extra content note at the top, lil bit of spanking, my real kink is people talking about their feelings apparently
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:06:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26548720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/readythefanons/pseuds/readythefanons
Summary: Lorenz secretly fantasizes about being thrown down and taken in the dirt by some commoner brute. Leonie offers to make his fantasy come true.ORLorenz/Leonie/Balthus feat. Way Too Many Emotions, approximately 1 competent person (it's Balthus yikes) and also some boning--The next morning, Lorenz’s probable wife-to-be woke him up, looked him dead in the eye, and asked, “So if I said maybe we should invite Balthus to bed, you would say…?”“How are you awake at this ungodly hour.”“I dunno, habit. Anyway. My thing. Thoughts?”“It is too early for any kind of thought, kindly refrain from further ambushes until after I’ve had my morning tea.”“Babe, I got things to do today if we’re going to have a scandalous romp,” Leonie said.
Relationships: Lorenz Hellman Gloucester/Leonie Pinelli, leonie/lorenz/balthus
Comments: 12
Kudos: 33
Collections: FE3H Kink Meme





	ain't as bad as all that

**Author's Note:**

> it's another [kinkmeme](https://3houseskinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/1608.html?thread=2913352#cmt2913352) fill. Prompt (paraphrased) _Lorenz, Wanting to be defiled. Lorenz secretly fantasizes about being thrown down and fucked hard in the dirt by some commoner brute. Beaten and defiled and called a whore and made to do all kinds of degrading things...he’s ashamed but wakes up with ruined sheets every time he dreams about it... Someone finds out and offers to make his fantasy come true._
> 
> I went with Leonie because I was feeling extremely on brand... also... Balthus! Balthus, you get to be the competent one for once, good for you.
> 
> CW: I don't use the word (except in this note), but the fic is premised on Lorenz fantasizing about being raped. Everything that happens to the characters """in real life""" is consensual, but, you know. In case anyone was unclear on that based on the summary and prompt. Take care of yourselves. That being said, this whole fic's pretty, I dunno, cuddly?

_Lorenz gasped in surprise and pain as a hand seized him by the hair. His unknown assailant yanked his head roughly, pulling him off balance, before kicking his legs out from under him. They released him as he fell to the ground, and he landed hard in the grimy street. Lorenz scrambled to his knees, got a glimpse of his assailant: a man, lit from behind by cheap, smoking rushlights that cast him into silhouette and obscured his face. Lorenz was vividly aware of the man’s roughly made clothing and his heavy, imposing build. Before Lorenz could make it to his feet, the man kicked out again, catching him in the chest._

_“You’re in the wrong part of town,” the man growled. Lorenz shook as he heard the cruel anticipation in the rough voice. “Unless you escaped the sporthouse. Hm?” The implication that he, Lorenz Hellman Gloucester, was a_ prostitute— __

_Hands—strong, blunt-fingered, dirty and rough from manual labor—seized him by his hair again. The man forced his head up. “Only one way to find out, yeah?” he nearly purred. Lorenz shuddered, screwed up his eyes. The man growled, and—pain burst across one side of Lorenz’s face as the man delivered a ringing slap. Lorenz made a noise of surprise, eyes flying open._

_Time seemed to ooze and melt after that, and Lorenz was aware only of instances, bobbing like flotsam in the river of his own consciousness. Himself on his knees, jaw aching as the man held his head and fucked his mouth… Whining as the man wrapped his formerly-pristine hair around his filthy fist, the better to hold him in place… Gasping as the man tore his once-immaculate clothes from his body, casting them into the filth that coated the street. Kneeling with his knees spread, exposed, as the man once again wrapped his hair around his fist and used it to hold Lorenz still as he fucked him from behind…_

Lorenz woke up. His blood was still racing, his cum was cooling on his skin, and his shame was so thick it was nearly choking him.

“Morning,” Leonie said as she sat across from him. Lorenz kept his eyes on his plate, but that didn’t stop her from taking one look at him and asking, “You okay?”

“I didn’t sleep well,” Lorenz said.

“That sucks,” Leonie said, as sympathetically as she said anything. “Be careful today, then. Your reactions might be off.” 

“Thank you, I will,” Lorenz sighed. Leonie reached across the table, laid a hand on his own. He finally looked at her and smiled slightly. They were not exactly betrothed, as postwar matters were keeping them rather too busy, but in the privacy of his own mind Lorenz thought of them as betrothed-to-be-betrothed. He turned his hand over, intertwined their fingers. Her hand was smaller than his, but it was strong and warm.

“Good,” Leonie said, and squeezed their joined hands. More quietly, as if she was embarrassed to offer, she added, “Let me know if there’s something I can do for you.” Lorenz felt his cheeks heat and ducked his head. 

“I will,” he lied.

He ended up giving himself away. It happened on one of those treasured nights where neither Leonie nor Lorenz had obligations to meet, and they were able to take each other to bed. Lorenz was pleasantly tired and thoroughly sated and fell asleep in his very favorite way: one arm draped over Leonie with their legs tangled together under the sheets. She was sleepily petting his head, breath soft against his skin. 

And he still had that same—vile—dream. And he had the same vile reaction.

She was mostly asleep, still, when he woke up, and perhaps she would have stayed asleep except that—Lorenz was sharing a bed with the woman he loved and wanted to marry, and they had enjoyed intercourse _that very night_ and he was still having this—this—abominable— _thing happening_. It was too late to be night and too early to be morning, and something about Lorenz was irreparably twisted. _He_ was corrupted, or he’d never been right in the first place, and he had no business bedding Leonie much less trapping her in holy matrimony with a _deviant_ , and, and, and—

“Whoa, Lor, you—what’s happening?” Leonie asked, waking up fully. Through the haze of his outsized emotions, Lorenz was aware of how the sleep slid from each syllable, _whoa_ being soft and hazy with dreams, _Lor_ being ill-formed but half awake, and _you—what’s happening?_ being fully awake and ready to charge out onto the battlefield if need be. “Lorenz?”

“I’m fine. Go back to sleep,” he managed. This completely failed to work. She touched his face. She was so close, and her thumbs were gentle as they swept across his cheeks.

“Lorenz, love, what’s wrong?” she asked. “Bad dream?” She was so close and so warm. Her hands were callused from holding her weapon, but she cupped his face so gently it made his chest ache. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and, voice cracking and stumbling, told the truth.

He was braced for any reaction, he thought, but he was not braced for her, at the end, to kiss him on his nose and say in completely normal tones _oh, is that all?_

“That’s not, look, I know you’re upset, but it’s not a problem like you think it is,” she said. Lorenz was already staring at her, but he blinked rapidly so as clear his vision and better stare at her in disbelief. She shook her head and said, “Really, Lor, it’s not, I promise.” She looked at him and softened. Lorenz’s eyes fluttered shut as she pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead. “Really, love. It’s okay. I’m still here. You didn’t scare me off.”

She wrapped her arms around his shoulder while he—pressed his face against her, and breathed, and shook. And when the—whatever it was—passed, she patted him on the head and said, “Let’s get you clean clothes, and we can either try to get some more sleep or I’ll tell you a thing.” She followed him to the washroom, and he consented to let her help wash his cum off, and when Lorenz was comfortable in a new set of sleeping clothes, she shepherded him back to the bed. She sat in the middle and looked at him expectantly. 

“Sleep or more talking?” she asked. 

“Talking,” Lorenz said. She patted the bed next to her. They put out the light and she promptly wrapped herself around him (in spite of the fact that he was taller, and therefore it made more sense for him to be wrapped around _her_ ). She spoke softly into his ear, and he couldn’t help feel that between her embrace and her words she was trying to spin a kind of private cocoon for just the two of them, insulated from the world. He found he didn’t mind.

“Hey, you remember my friend Balthus, right?” Leonie asked, some time later. They were breakfasting together.

“I do,” Lorenz said. He recalled the man: big, wild hair, general boisterous attitude towards life. His dearest had befriended the man when she’d been traveling hither and yon during the war, before the reunion and everything else.

“He’s going to be in the area next month, and I’m planning to see him. I think it would be fun if you came along…” Lorenz caught her hand, kissed her fingertips.

“Where is he staying? He can stay here if he wants,” Lorenz offered. Leonie cupped his cheek. She was smiling crookedly. 

“I can’t invite him to stay in your house,” she said. _It’s your house too,_ Lorenz didn’t say. Well it _was,_ for all intents and purposes. She slept here, and lived here, and had belongings here. Officially, she had a suite in the guest wing, but she never spent any time in it. He resisted the urge to rub his face against her like some kind of alley cat, instead kissing her palm.

“Invite him on my behalf, then,” Lorenz said. “If you would be so kind.”

“If you’re sure,” she said doubtfully.

“I am.”

“Okay, Lor.” She looked at him for a long moment, and Lorenz—though always happy to be the center of her attention—didn’t know what she was thinking, only that she was weighing some unspecified possibilities.

Leonie’s friend Balthus was more or less as Lorenz remembered him: huge, muscular, easygoing and cheerful. There were some details Lorenz hadn’t recalled as well. His hair was not just wild but seemed nearly untamable. The man had tied it back into a horsetail for formal dinner, and it still managed to give the impression of, oh Lorenz didn’t know, a lion’s mane. Lorenz also hadn’t recalled how the man was in the habit of leaving an extra shirt button open, revealing a portion of his broad chest.

More of that chest was revealed when Leonie and Balthus—inevitably—faced off on the training grounds. They didn’t change into their full battle gear, but Leonie did don a light breastplate. Balthus stripped off his shirt. Lorenz recalled that he was a grappler of some renown. Balthus’s chest and shoulders were broad, tanned, and littered with scars. He stretched as he stood at one end of the ring, and Leonie stood at the other, turning her spear hand over hand to loosen and warm up her muscles. It looked like an absurd match up: Leonie wasn’t petite, exactly, but Balthus was a wall of solid muscle.

She held her own, of course, using the reach granted by her weapon to her advantage. Balthus was frightfully fast. He took three of their five bouts. He and Leonie were swearing cheerfully at each other as they analyzed the fights, and Lorenz did his part by bringing them water. Leonie, true to form, poured the first dipperful of water over her head. Balthus followed suit. Okay, now there were two dripping wet people in Lorenz’s family home’s training ground. Okay then.

“Thanks, love,” Leonie said, smiling at him through dripping hair. She’d shed the breastplate as soon as the bout ended, so her shirt was, ah, clinging to her. She was still flushed with exertion and she was clearly still catching her breath as her chest, ah, heaved. Lorenz briefly but fervently wished that they were somewhere more private.

“Of course,” he made himself say. “You did excellently.”

“I’ll say,” Balthus agreed. Up close, he was very. Shirtless. The hair on his chest was much better behaved than the hair on his head, which was probably due to length more than the inherent properties of the strands involved and Goddess keep and preserve Lorenz, _what was happening_. “Your girl gave me a run for my money.” To Leonie he said accusingly, “I thought you said that now you were in the lap of luxury, you’d gone soft.”

“I didn’t beat you, did I?” Leonie asked, still wet and with the, the bosoms. Lorenz had really hoped he’d put this level of disgraceful foolishness behind him, but alas. He stared into the bucket of water he was still holding. It was his only solace in these trying times.

“You almost had me with that sneaky feint and jab,” Balthus said, and they were off again, going through the matches blow by blow. Lorenz normally quite enjoyed after action breakdowns, but unfortunately he missed out on the opportunity to participate in this one because he was, as it were, enjoying a private breakdown of his own. Again. The water in the pail sloshed gently at him.

“That was a great day,” Leonie said. It was evening, and they were in bed. Lorenz was sitting up with a book, and she had scooted down to rest her head in his lap. “Did you like it?”

“I did,” Lorenz said. She was so happy, how could he not be? She smiled at him, brilliant and unfettered. “I can see why you get along.”

“He’s a good one,” Leonie said comfortably. She reached up, played with a trailing strand of his hair. “Tomorrow, if the weather’s nice, I’d like to go fishing with him. Will you have time?”

“In the morning,” Lorenz said. “Are you sure?”

“Of course,” Leonie said. She reached up with her other hand, started idly braiding the strand she was playing with. “If we catch anything, maybe I’ll cook it for dinner.” Leonie had no need to cook anything herself, as Lorenz’s family employed several professional cooks for exactly that purpose, but this didn’t seem like the time to point that out.

“I’m sure it will be delicious,” Lorenz said solemnly. She smiled, tilted her head up for a kiss. He obliged her.

“You cannot be serious,” Lorenz said with exaggerated disapproval. Leonie was smiling expectantly at him, and he had a role to play after all. “This is absurd.”

“It works,” Balthus insisted. He was standing in the middle of a stream, shirtless again, pants rolled up to his knees. “You just need to be fast.”

“Take your pants off,” Leonie called helpfully from the shore. “That way if you fall in, you still have dry clothes to change into.” She was fishing with a pole like a normal person.

“I’m not gonna fall in,” Balthus retorted. Leonie cackled, and the big man sighed. “Fine.” He waded to the shore, stripped down to his loincloth.

Balthus claimed that ‘bear fishing’ was a key component in improving one’s speed for the battlefield. One stood in the middle of the stream and snatched one’s prey out using only the hands, like a bear. In the privacy of his own mind, Lorenz was rearranging the letters to make it bare fishing. Such a shame that his beloved didn’t appreciate wordplay.

The worst part was, he actually did manage to catch several fish.

Lorenz did have actual duties to attend to, but he managed to make time to spend with his darling and her friend.

His darling, who seemed to be going out of her way to contrive situations for Balthus to be in varying states of undress.

“Are you, perhaps, ah, attracted to Balthus?” he finally made himself ask. Leonie was undressing for bed, and if it weren’t for the way his heart was beating too fast, Lorenz might have quite enjoyed the sight of her bared shoulders and back as she paused in removing her shirt. Leonie turned, looked at him over her shoulder.

“Why? Are you?” Oh. Lorenz’s heart kicked from a canter to a gallop.

“ _What?_ ” he managed. Leonie shrugged her shirt back on, knelt at the edge of the bed. She took his hand, which had clenched itself into a tight fist in the bedclothes, and forced his fingers to uncurl.

“Hey, love, it was just a question. It’s okay if you are, and it’s okay if you’re not,” she said in the odd voice she generally reserved for small animals and _infants._ Lorenz tried to glare at her, but it likely came out more wild-eyed than incensed. “Lorenz, sweetheart, talk to me?”

“If this whole visit has been a, a ruse to, to—” He couldn’t even fathom why she’d do such a thing. His usual assumption would be to—gain an advantage, somehow, either through humiliation or, or extortion or psychological threat, but this was _Leonie,_ and he truly couldn’t ascribe such malicious intent to her, so why—

“ _Lorenz._ Lorenz, no, sweetheart, no, nothing like that. It’s me, I love you, I’d never do something like that. Fuck,” this last part was sotto voce, directed presumably at herself. “No. Balthus really is visiting on his way to Goneril, and I really, really wasn’t planning anything. I promise. Lorenz? Lor?” Lorenz made himself look at her, saw—just Leonie. Stubborn brow, honest mouth, eyes that made him feel seen and known and valued. She was looking up at him, still holding his hand, and he just—loved her. Okay then. He breathed in, saw her relax. He breathed in, out, in, out, until he felt less crazed.

He slid off the bed, sat next to her on the floor, so close he was practically in her lap. Sitting on the floor with his knees tucked up made him feel strangely young and nostalgic—strange because Lorenz Hellman Gloucester did _not_ sit on the floor as a child, on the basis that it was dirty and not befitting a person of his status and also he wouldn’t want to crease his clothes—all the moreso when Leonie tangled their hands together and leaned her head close like they were sharing secrets.

“I love you,” she whispered. Well, that was no secret.

“I love you too,” he whispered back. Her shirt was still undone. Mm. Lorenz took a moment to appreciate the view. She caught him looking. (She always did.) “And I love you, and you too,” he added, addressing her breasts. She laughed. A frivolous but extremely enjoyable interlude followed which involved the kissing of said breasts, and other parts of her anatomy as well. He didn’t let her touch him this time, and when Lorenz’s future-fiancee had been seen to, he sat up and regarded her with satisfaction.

She smiled at him with quite a bit of satisfaction as well. They were still on the floor, for reasons that were unclear.

“What I asked you earlier,” he said slowly. Wakefulness suffused her, and she sat up to face him. “Are you?” She tilted her head to the side, tucked a stray lock of hair behind one ear.

“He’s not really my type, but I can see the appeal,” she said thoughtfully. She looked at him carefully but didn’t say anything further.

“Me too,” Lorenz admitted very, very softly. “I…” He really, truly could not say it. Leonie took his hand, kissed his knuckles, the ball of his wrist, the pad of his palm, the thin skin of his pulse point.

“He’s very handsome,” Leonie offered. “And muscled like whoa.” The corner of Lorenz’s mouth twitched.

“He is, indeed, muscled like whoa,” Lorenz said solemnly. “I have often thought, my dear, that you have the heart of a poet.”

“I’m a wordsmith,” Leonie agreed readily. “Not to mention his shoulders are like shoom and his ass is ba-boing.” That was too much. Lorenz laughed.

The next morning, Lorenz’s probable wife-to-be woke him up, looked him dead in the eye, and asked, “So if I said maybe we should invite Balthus to bed, you would say…?”

“How are you awake at this ungodly hour.”

“I dunno, habit. Anyway. My thing. Thoughts?”

“It is too early for any kind of thought, kindly refrain from further ambushes until after I’ve had my morning tea.”

“Babe, I got things to do today if we’re going to have a scandalous romp,” Leonie said. Lorenz groaned, shut her up with his mouth, and refused to engage in further discussion until tea _and_ pastries _and_ a bowl of summer fruit had been consumed. For her part, Leonie ate an ungodly amount of everything (as was her habit, and he was disgustingly enamored of it) and refrained from launching uncalled for psychological barrages for the length of their entire meal. 

“I have eaten,” he said at length, laying down his napkin.

“And?”

“I require a full day to cogitate, if you please.” Leonie nodded as if this were expected, caught his hand and kissed his fingers.

“Okay. What do you have planned for the day?” she asked. Being highly distracted and intermittently embarrassed, intrigued, and generally conflicted, apparently. Lorenz listed his meetings and appointments for the day, and she did the same, and they got on with things.

“Why are you pursuing this topic?” Lorenz asked at length. It was dark out and by all rights they should be asleep. “Wouldn’t it be simpler and less dangerous not to turn over the stone?”

“Well,” Leonie said, and stopped. Lorenz waited. “You didn’t make fun of my thing with the, you know, lace and ribbons and everything.” 

“Many people find lingerie enticing, myself included,” Lorenz said. “It’s not really the same thing.” Leonie liked occasionally wearing ‘girly’ clothing and being called pretty (which she was, though Lorenz had yet to persuade her of this) in bed. Lorenz fantasized about being brutally taken in a dark alleyway. It really was not the same thing.

“The animal ears were a bit unusual,” Leonie said with the falsely chipper tone she used to mask embarrassment. Well, yes, but they’d suited her surprisingly well, and the whole thing was entirely harmless. “Besides it was embarrassing for _me_ , so I think the comparison stands at least a little. You remember how twisted up I was about it.” He did. He’d never seen her so embarrassed and defensive about something so benign. He hugged her a little closer, and she rested her head on his chest. “ _But_ getting to explore that with you made me feel—happy, and, and loved,” she said. “I want you to feel that way too.”

“I do.” He felt lost with it, sometimes, adrift in how sincerely and deeply she seemed to like him.

“Good.” She kissed his chin. “I just think that,” she took a deep breath, held onto him, “Feeling—being able to, to face all the parts of yourself, and not turn away or try to pretend they aren’t there, it makes you—it makes it easier to be a more full and complete person. Wouldn’t you say I’m better than ever since we started doing the, ah, the thing?”

“Which you still cannot name,” Lorenz pointed out. She pushed herself and grasped his face in both hands.

In a loud, clear voice, she said, “The _sexy dress-up, sometimes with fake animal ears, where you tell me I’m pretty,_ wouldn’t you say I enjoy that?” She was making a point, but he wasn’t sure for whom.

“You are beyond pretty. You are beautiful,” he said. She scoffed, as usual. Well, when she was ready to listen, he would still be here.

“Thanks,” she sighed. She stroked his cheek. “Wouldn’t you say I’m happier than ever?”

“I sincerely hope so.”

“Well, that’s what I want for you. Not because there’s anything wrong with you now, but because—if your life can be better, why wouldn’t you want it to be?” She was looking at him so closely. He closed his eyes. 

“What if I enjoy it,” he said. He could practically hear her shrug, but her voice was gentle.

“Then you enjoy it.”

“What if I—” He stopped. He knew what he meant but not how to say it. He heard Leonie sigh, felt her press their foreheads together.

“I was afraid. That if I admitted, much less _got_ , what I wanted, I would—I would change. I thought if I let myself get a taste, I’d want it all the time, and the, the version of myself that I am every day, who I like, who I’ve worked hard on, that she’d be gone. I was afraid that I’d be changed.” Oh, Leonie. Perhaps the comparison between them was not so absurd as it seemed on its face. He heard her swallow hard. 

“And you know what? I did change, a bit, and it wasn’t so bad. I didn’t suddenly become a, an airhead who only thought about fashion and, and looking nice and what people think of me, but I did—have to admit, to myself, that I do care about looking nice. Sometimes. And that sucked because it was so comfortable to not care—but it was a lie. And now, I’m not telling the same old lie, and it’s more complicated but it’s better. I’m not the same, but the parts of me that I like are still there. Plus, sometimes I get to dress up in sexy clothes and feel pretty. And I never could have done that if I was still hiding from myself.”

“I love you,” he said helplessly. He did. 

“You—probably didn’t know that all of that was going on at the time,” he did not, “But it was, and you were there the whole time. And you were so sweet and patient and indulgent with me, and I just—think it would be nice if you could be that, that kind to yourself. Yeah.”

Lorenz hugged her. What else could he do? He didn’t know what he was going to decide, but he already felt, how had she put it, complicated and happy and loved.

“I’ll think about it,” he promised. She nodded, held him back just as tightly.

Balthus actually, uh, left before Lorenz was done thinking about it. He was only stopping by on his way to the Gonerils, after all, and well. There was a lot to think about. Leonie didn’t say anything, didn’t even give him a _look_ , for which Lorenz was grateful.

He, Lorenz, did invite Balthus to stay at the Gloucester home again if he was passed by on his way back. Leonie didn’t say anything about that, either.

“Sooo,” Leonie said. “Balthus is stopping by on his way back… He’ll be here next week…” This time, she did give him a look. Lorenz covered his face with both hands.

“I,” he said at length, “Would not be. Averse. To. What you suggested.”

“That’s a yes?” Leonie asked. Lorenz nodded. “Okay, great, excellent. I have a plan.”

“Of course you do.”

Her so called plan apparently entailed procurement of a very specific, mildly alarming ~~and quite intriguing~~ piece of equipment. She invited him to handle it, but he—declined. Ah, no. 

He did handle it when she was out of the room. She probably knew that.

“So, uh,” Leonie said. “Did you want to know the details, or do you want to be surprised?” She was seated in front of him while he combed her hair, so Lorenz was unable to cover his face.

“Um,” he said. On the one hand, surprise was likely a terrible idea for several reasons. On the other, anticipation could be as deadly as any blade. “Maybe just give me the broad strokes?”

“I’ll give you the broad strokes,” Leonie mumbled. He tugged her hair. “Sorry, sorry,” she laughed. “Okay, fine. Uh, generally speaking…”

It would be false to say Leonie was all talk and no action. It would be truly, supremely false, and woe betide any fool enough to believe such a thing.

It would be fair to say that Lorenz’s betrothed-to-be was, in fact, _all_ action.

“Well, well, well, what’s a soft thing like you doing on the wrong side of town?” Balthus purred, stepping close enough to Lorenz that he was forced to back away. Lorenz was immaculately dressed, the very picture of an upstanding nobleman if one did not count the way his erection was distending the front of his mage’s robes. Balthus was dressed like a ruffian, all coarse homespun and leather. His shirt was entirely open, baring his chest, and this close he smelled of fresh sweat and dirt and something terribly masculine. The larger man reached out and pinned Lorenz neatly to the wall, one hand splayed almost the entire width of Lorenz’s chest. He shivered. “Boss,” Balthus called out behind him, not taking his eye off Lorenz, “Come look what I found.”

Leonie sauntered into Lorenz’s field of view. Her attire was similar to that of Balthus, save that her shirt was closed (tragic) and her hair was bound up in a rag tied around her head. The poor fit of her clothes hid the familiar curves of her body, made her halfway into an androgynous stranger. She looked like a, a brigand, or a pirate queen. Lorenz’s erection did not go down, not even a bit.

“What you got, Brute?” she drawled, and her voice was rough and common, each syllable slumping and sliding into its neighbor. Lorenz flushed furiously.

“Think I got myself an escaped whore,” Balthus said cheerfully. “Pretty one, too.” He stroked a work-roughed thumb across Lorenz’s cheek, none too gently.

“Don’t be stupid, that ain’t a whore, just a jumped-up merchant son,” Leonie sneered, drifting closer. “Lookit him.”

“Excuse you, I am a son of one of the most esteemed families in all the Alliance—” Lorenz interjected. The brigand boss smirked.

“Brute?” she said. The big man caught him a blow across the cheek, more loud than painful. Lorenz yelped. “Again.” Another blow caught his other cheek. “Good.” She surveyed him coldly. “You know, you just might be stupid enough to be a noble after all. Or a real dumb whore, but they’re usually more canny than you’ve been.”

“I know a way to find out,” Balthus volunteered, all toothy cheer. Leonie smirked.

“Well go on then.”

The hand on Lorenz’s chest unceremoniously grabbed the front of his robes. He was thrown to the ground and landed hard on his hands and knees. Before he could scramble to his feet, the other man was kneeling next to him. A hand tangled cruelly in Lorenz’s hair, pulling his head back.

In a low voice, he told Lorenz, “Before you go trying to do anything clever, boy, I ought to tell you: better for you if you are a whore, get my drift? The boss is none too keen on nobles, I dunno why.” 

“This your way of figuring it out, Brute? Talk him to death?”

“Just getting started,” Balthus said. He adjusted his hold on Lorenz’s hair, shoved him down sharply. Lorenz was not braced and ended with his chin and chest in the dirt. “Spread his legs, will you?” An unseen foot kicked his legs apart. “Mm hm,” Balthus hummed. A broad-fingered hand reached up Lorenz’s robes, found his waistband. Lorenz gasped and pressed his cheek more firmly into the ground as his body was bared.

“That’s a nice ass,” the woman said, somewhere beyond Lorenz’s sight. “Gonna bruise like a peach.” Lorenz bit his lip.

It was not enough. The first blow caught him hard, and Lorenz yelped. Oh, oh, it stung, it hurt, and yet—the second blow came quickly, and the third.

“Can you count, whore?” The brigand’s boss was amused. “That’s three.” A food prodded him in the side. “Say it. Count them.”

“Fuck you,” Lorenz panted. Suddenly, she was in front of him, and it was her hand in his hair. She dragged his head up, made him look her in the eye.

“Count them. Do it,” she said, eyes burning into him. “Or it will be so much harder for you.”

“Better do as she says, pretty boy. Learned that lesson the hard way,” Balthus said cheerfully from somewhere nearby.

“… Three,” Lorenz said at length. She smirked cruelly, patted him condescendingly on the head.

“Good boy.” To Balthus she said, “Again.” Lorenz groaned as the blow landed. “Four. Say it.”

“Four,” Lorenz panted. A rough hand squeezed his abused and reddened ass. He whined, squirmed without meaning to. _Oh,_ oh, that almost worse—the hand struck him again. “ _Ah!_ Five…” 

“ _Good_ boy,” she crooned. Lorenz—shuddered, kept counting for h—kept counting. It got harder, Lorenz more breathless and, and it was harder to, to remember the words— He couldn’t control his voice, couldn’t control his body, kept squirming but wasn’t trying to get away— “Wrong,” the woman’s voice said, cool and amused. Lorenz forced open his eyes. Wh-what was wrong? She carded her fingers through his hair before yanking up on it. A moan pushed its way from his throat. “You got the _number_ wrong, what kind of merchant son can’t count?”

“Told you, boss,” the man said. Lorenz whined and squirmed as a rough-skinned hand kneaded his ass. “I got an eye for escaped whores.”

“Guess you were right, Brute,” his boss said. “Now what’re you gonna do with him?”

“I can think of a few things,” the man said.

The woman leaned in, still holding him up by his hair, and said in a loud whisper, “Some people, like the Brute here, get off on hitting people.” 

“And some people get off on being hit, and ain’t it a beautiful thing,” the brute said. The hand that had been torturing the flesh of his ass slipped down, grabbed Lorenz’s cock. Lorenz cried out. Oh, oh, no, he was, he was _so_ hard, he couldn’t. The brute pumped his cock once, lazily, and Lorenz wailed as he came, defiling himself on the hard ground. The hand on him didn’t relent, however, just kept stroking, and it was—it hurt—

“You’ll break him,” the brigand boss said conversationally. “Night’s still young.” The hand let go, and Lorenz drew in a breath that shook. “You want a go at his mouth?”

“If you’re offering,” the brute said. The hand in his hair let go, and Lorenz collapsed weakly to the ground. The next thing he was aware of, there was a hard body behind him, pulling him into a kneeling position, and a hard body in front of him, heavy cock jutting out from a thick thatch of dark hair.

“Open wide, pretty boy,” a female voice crooned in his ear. Lorenz opened his mouth. “Get your hands around the base, come on,” she directed. Lorenz did so, something deep within him thrilling at the weight of it in his hands. “Good,” she purred. _Oh._ Lorenz leaned forward, mouth open. 

He didn’t take it into his mouth, at first, just—pressed his tongue under the crown of the head. That got him _two_ approving noises: a quiet groan from above him and a satisfied hum from behind. He laved his tongue on the spot, blushing fiercely at how, how he couldn’t stop thinking about how he could elicit that groan again.

“Oh, darlin, don’t you think you teased the man enough?” the voice in his ear asked. Lorenz whined, felt his blush intensify. He opened his mouth again, drew the head inside. 

It was—terribly, terribly easy to get lost in the, the blunt physicality of it. Lorenz’s breath came shallowly as he sucked Balthus’s cock. Inasmuch as he’d ever _thought_ about this (never, except sometimes) he’d pictured—taking the whole thing, really. The reality was different, of course, and he was shaking, apparently. The body behind him shifted until Leonie was almost draped over him. One arm wrapped around his torso, holding him close, and her free hand found its way to his hair again. She tugged, kept a firm tension that dragged a thin sound from Lorenz’s throat. He closed his eyes, tongued the underside of the cock in his mouth. Another set of hands, broad fingered and rough skinned, settled on either side of his face. Lorenz let himself get lost in it.

“I think you should fuck his mouth now,” the woman’s voice said. Lorenz’s jaw hurt, but he forced his mouth wider. “Poor little whore’s begging for it, see?”

“You’re the boss.” The man’s voice was rough, breathless— _Lorenz_ had done that. He shivered. Lorenz, somewhere in his mind, was aware of the care and control the man exercised as he began to thrust into his mouth. The rest of Lorenz, however, could focus on nothing but the girth of the cock in his mouth and how easy it would be to be choked by it. His body couldn’t decide if it was time to panic or get hard again.

“Easy,” said the familiar voice in his ear. She wrapped herself around him, warm and strong. To Balthus, she said, “If you break him, I’ll gut you.” Light, conversational, kind of joking and kind of not. Lorenz—tried to moan around the cock in his mouth. He was a degenerate who got off on his lover threatening another man, add it to the list. Balthus laughed breathlessly. Balthus fucked his mouth (carefully), and Lorenz lost himself in it, and Leonie’s hands wandered across his torso. At length, she threaded her hand in his hair again, tugged him off. Lorenz slumped against her, panting open-mouthed. 

“Hey whore, how’s this doing?” she asked, and kneaded his abused, sensitive ass. Lorenz moaned shamefully, rocked into her touch. It _hurt,_ and he squirmed needily, rolling his hips in obscene invitation. She made one of those satisfied noises in his ear, slipped her hand under his filthy and wrinkled robe to rake her fingers across his skin. He made a noise of animal pleasure, head falling back.

“Brute, on the ground,” she said carelessly. The brute settled himself on the ground in front of them, still hard but apparently content to wait. “Hold his head,” she said, and shoved him so he fell forward. The brute caught him, and it was impossible for Lorenz to ignore the man’s wiry chest hair when he was pressed against that selfsame broad, scarred chest.

She shifted away from him, leaving him in the arms of the other man, but before Lorenz could start to get concerned, she was back. She pushed his robe up his back, exposing him to the cool air, and one hand came to rest on the small of his back. The other—

“ _Oh,_ ” he gasped, squirming. “Oh, oh, fuck.” Balthus set both hands on his back, kept him in place. Lorenz’s hands clutched at his muscled torso. 

“That’s the idea,” he said cheerfully. “Don’t worry, it’s weird at first, but it’s good.”

“Oh, oh, fuck, it’s—so strange,” Lorenz choked out. Leonie’s finger wasn’t even pushing _into_ him, just rubbing slickly around his entrance, but—it was—he was so hard, and he, he couldn’t, he shouldn’t be, it was wrong—“Fuck, no—” The hand touching him _there_ disappeared immediately.

“Lorenz, love,” Leonie said, voice tight and concerned. Lorenz was so _hard._

“Um, um,” he panted. “I’m, fine, I think?” Balthus smoothed a warm hand up the clothed length of his back. “Keep—keep going.”

“Um,” Leonie said.

“Color, Lorenz?” Balthus said. Lorenz set his face against the place where his neck met his shoulder.

“Orange.” He wanted to say green, but it was _very_ strange. Slower was probably better.

“You sure?” Balthus asked, still warm and calm. Lorenz nodded. “Boss-lady, you okay too?”

“Yeah, but—he said—”

“That’s what the colors are for,” Balthus said gently. There was a pause, such as one that might occur when a woman nodded. Her hand found Lorenz’s hip, stroked it gently. Lorenz—relaxed. He peeked over his shoulder at her, smiled a little. She smiled back. There she was. Balthus patted his shoulder absentmindedly. “Can I get a color from you too, boss-lady?”

“Uh, orange for me too, I guess,” she said, still looking at Lorenz. Balthus nodded. 

“Okay, we’ll go slow, okay?” he said. Leonie nodded leaned in to kiss the side of Lorenz’s head. Okay then. Lorenz blushed and tilted his hips.

They went slower. It was—a lot. It made him feel horribly exposed, and terribly dirty, and he wanted nothing more than for her to press into him and take him like a baseborn whore. Fuck, she wasn’t even inside him and he already wanted to cry with how intense it all was.

“Ain’t nice to tease, boss,” Balthus said eventually. Lorenz whined his agreement, hips hitching on their own, trying to get—more— “C’mon, pretty little whore needs it, look at him,” Balthus continued, and Lorenz was nodding, nodding, nodding.

She didn’t say anything, just pressed _in_ —

Lorenz moaned, loud and filthy, as disgraceful as any whore, and all he could think was _finally, finally._ The brigand opened his ass with her fingers, and the brute held him still, and Lorenz loved it, was ruined for it. The brute eventually grunted that it was time to fuck him properly, and Lorenz whined for it, spread his knees and presented his ass. Yes, yes, it was time, it was long past—he needed it, he was aching for it, had needed it for so long and never, never gotten— never thought—

Lorenz wanted to hate it, wanted it to hurt, but it—it was uncomfortable, and strange, and he did not hate it, not even a little. It was—a relief. It was strange and impossible and he’d been so full of terrifying, unnameable desire for so long that—this, being open, being full, the slide and the, the _fullness,_ it was—he wanted it to break him, but it didn’t. He knew he was still almost certainly a pervert, but he didn’t feel _bad._ He didn’t feel wrong, and he didn’t feel like a different person, and he didn’t feel like he was in the process of ruining his own life, throwing it all away for nothing, he just felt like—well, like Lorenz, and also like he might die if Leonie didn’t fuck him harder.

He vocalized this last part, and she obliged. Lorenz moaned for it, moaned louder when she and Balthus suggested that he, Lorenz Hellman Gloucester, might in fact be a whore and a slut and a cock hungry bitch. Well, okay then, it was possible that they had a point.

“Whore,” Leonie grunted out. “Put that mouth to good use. Suck his cock.” Lorenz—did, badly but with great enthusiasm. He choked himself on Balthus’s cock for as long as he could, and Balthus twisted his hand in Lorenz’s hair, and Leonie pounded his ass, and, and—

He was not surprised when he came. He was surprised that, having just come, he was still incredibly eager to be fucked. 

“Don’t stop,” he begged as Leonie began to pull out, “Please, more, fuck me— _ah! Yes, yes,_ ” She pushed back into him, fucked him with careful, only slightly clumsy movements. Oh, oh, Goddess, was it possible that Lorenz had been made for this? Probably not, but he quite liked the notion when it was suggested to him, oh, oh, yes he did. Fuck, there was no way Lorenz was going to come again, but he truly wasn’t ready to stop. _Oh._ Lorenz redoubled his attentions on Balthus’s cock, savored the way the big man’s hips were starting to hitch, just slightly. 

“You close?” Leonie asked over Lorenz’s bent head. 

“Very,” Balthus panted.

“Come on him, give you a copper bit if you get it in his hair,” she said. Balthus made an incredulous noise, but Leonie only slapped Lorenz on his (sore, tender, much-abused) ass, eliciting a heartfelt moan. When she did that—he clenched—it, it made the, her _cock_ in him feel huge—

Balthus did it. It was vile and hot and slick, and Lorenz made a sound like he was having another orgasm (he wasn’t, he was pretty sure, but oh he really liked that), and then Leonie was pulling out, shedding the harness and fake cock in a graceless pile, and shoving Lorenz onto his back. She rode his face ferociously and collapsed in a sweaty heap next to Lorenz. He could relate.

“Well,” she said after some time had passed. “That was fun.” Balthus wheezed. Again, Lorenz could relate. “Wasn’t it?” She touched his arm. “Lorenz?” He rolled into her, tucked his face against her chest. She cuddled him. “You good?” Goddess, he was tired. He nodded. “He’s good,” she reported to Balthus. The other man snorted.

“Glad to hear it,” he said. “Should we get out of here?”

“Guess so,” she said. She looked around. How was she so awake. “Put your cock away and let’s get him into a real bed, yeah?”

“Is she always this bad at pillow talk?” Balthus asked Lorenz. He shrugged, or thought he did. He was so sleepy.

“You’re the one who thought we should go,” Leonie said. She was—up and moving around. How. 

Lorenz lost track of the next little bit, but he was pretty sure it involved Balthus carrying him like a princess up several flights of stairs while Leonie hovered. They ended up in his room, somehow. Lorenz took a little nap. When he woke up, Leonie and Balthus were there on either side of him. All three of them were naked, and he was a lot less sticky than he would have expected. He made an inquisitive noise.

“Hey, love,” Leonie said, coming awake instantly. She touched his face. That was nice. “You okay? You hurt?” Lorenz was very okay, thank you. She kissed his nose. That was nice. “You thirsty?” she asked. He nodded. Leonie fetched him a glass of water. Balthus helped him sit up, which was unnecessary but nice. Lorenz leaned against the big man while he drank the entire glass, then another one. Leonie filled it up a third time, but he only drank half of it. She set it on the bedside table, sat on the bed in front of him. “You okay, sweetheart?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Love you.” Because it was true. She smiled, cupped his cheek. He leaned into it. Then he slumped against Balthus. Oh, yeah, Balthus. “Love you too?” Lorenz said. Balthus’s chest moved when he laughed, and it jostled Lorenz. Funny.

“Sure,” the big man said. He was so _big_ , and so hairy and muscular. Mm. Lorenz may or may not have tried to grope that chest, why not. He heard Leonie giggle. Aw. He really, really loved her.

“Balthus,” Lorenz said. He was halfway to taking another nap. “Did you have sex with my wife?”

“Not recently,” Balthus said cautiously. “Unless you count just now.”

“’S fine if you did,” Lorenz said, and yeaaaah he was almost asleep. Mm. “Just curious.”

“Bother you?” Leonie asked. Lorenz tried to frown at her. Of course not!

“Course not,” he mumbled. “Just asking.”

“Well, a few times during the war, but it was mostly to let off steam,” Leonie said. Lorenz was very distantly aware of the two of them looking at each other. “That okay?”

“Course,” Lorenz sighed. “I love you.”

“Love you too, Lor,” his love said, and she sounded amused. That was fine. Lorenz liked it when she was amused. As he slipped the rest of the way into sleep, he was aware of Balthus whispering, _Wife?_ And Leonie saying, _We’re not even engaged,_ and oh, right, Lorenz should take care of that right away. Right after this nap.

**Author's Note:**

> i told my dude about this fic, and he was like "ok but Leonie's kink would be DD/lg" and i died laughing.
> 
> OH and writing this fic gave me, like, chest hair headcanons, so thanks, OP
> 
> comments are a delight!


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